Brotherhood Chronicles: Operation CLOUD
by xxIAmTheSkyxx
Summary: Four months have passed since the suicide, and things have been way too quiet. Eventually, Ventus Reed receives a warning from a friend who fears for the detective's life - and just like that, his life was about to get a whole lot more difficult thanks to try and keep from losing it to C.L.O.U.D. Book 6 of the Brotherhood Chronicles series.
1. On Edge

_If you clicked on this story without having read the oneshot entries that precede this story,**g**__**o back and read those other entries for this series before following this story in order to avoid spoilers**__. You won't be able to follow what goes on here otherwise. All of them are listed on my profile, in the order you should read them, so I highly recommend going back and reading those before investing your time in this. If you don't want to do that, well…don't say I didn't warn you when I say…__**SPOILERS ABOUND**__._

_After a forever and a half, I finally have this multi-chapter addition to the Brotherhood Chronicles up. Let me say this right now; this story will be real slow-going. I mean, this is going to be huge—so I'm gonna need time to organize everything I have for it before I put it to Word. Don't berate me too harshly if updates are slow, because I have way too much on my plate right now—this story takes up a huge portion of it by itself. I didn't even plan on this being a series, to start. I need time to properly expand on my material._

_Okay, this is chapter 1, everybody! Without further ado, let's dive into it!_

**Ch. 1: On Edge**

Ventus wanted to die.

…Okay, that wasn't entirely truthful. It only _felt_ like he should want to die…or maybe he was dying already. It was tough to tell, what with this stupid hangover.

What had possessed him? He'd sworn off alcohol as an antidepressant (as one could imagine, being a detective was a very stressful occupation for a number of reasons) ever since that bar incident after he'd gotten promoted to this position. His colleagues still teased him about it to this day.

While he still felt overwhelming shame for going against his own vow, he took a minimal amount of comfort in the knowledge that Vanitas wasn't in any position to spread the news that he'd gotten drunk again. Heaven knew that the both of them already had enough on their plates—especially after the idiot tried to off himself. He hadn't felt that panicked since realizing that his closest and long-standing friend had been behind the murders of two women that he happened to know. These brothers really knew how to shove every stick imaginable up his ass.

_I shouldn't have to deal with this bullshit_, he thought to himself irritably. _Damn it; these idiots are already making me think like a retiree!_

However, by this point it was just wishful thinking on his part. His life had already gone down the drain—all he was able to do now was land in the cesspool of shit and put up with the stink.

But not today. Today he was staying in bed, and nothing short of an assassination attempt was going to get him out of it.

…Which was exactly why the world chose to let his phone ring the moment that thought finished forming in his mind. It was as if his life was saying, _Like hell I'm gonna let you take a break; you've got a criminal organization to dissolve, damn it._

Doing his best to contain the frustration he felt, he fumbled for his phone on top of his bedside drawer, picked it up, and answered it without bothering to check the caller ID.

"This is Reed," he said as he exhaled wearily. "Who's calling?"

"About time you picked up." Vanitas's unmistakably crisp voice sounded on the other end of the line. "You sleep like the fucking dead. Get up already; I'm sick of waiting for you."

He then hung up before Ventus had a chance to respond, leaving him listening to the dial tone in utter bewilderment.

_Did he seriously just call me to wake me up?_ he thought to himself. _A normal person would just knock on the door or something._

Ventus set his phone down and sat up, stretching his arms and letting his back crack. Then again, Vanitas wasn't exactly a textbook definition of the word _normal_. No ill will intended.

"Heh," he chuckled to himself, "they're definitely related, all right."

Not wanting another glimpse of an upset Vanitas (that man looked downright terrifying whenever he was in a bad mood—not that Ventus would ever admit that to him), he decided to get out of bed—and find some Tylenol while he was at it.

* * *

"Christ, how the hell are you not dead yet?" Vanitas griped from his spot on the two-seater couch when Ventus exited the hallway. "My fingers are cramped from all the times I had to press the call button."

Ventus let a smirk slip out at his words. "Well, I guess I'm just that lucky," he said, running a hand through his hair in a marginal effort to tidy it. "It seems I've gotten pretty good at cheating death recently."

"'Recently'?"

"Yeah, 'cause no one's ever tried to shoot me in the chest or commit suicide by train before you guys came along and flipped it all to hell, you know," he grunted, letting his hand drop as he shot Vanitas a sharp look. "Still pissed about that. Just so you know."

Vanitas simply clicked his tongue in annoyance and stared up at the ceiling without saying anything.

"Anyway," Ventus went on, "if you wanted to wake me up, why didn't you just knock on my door? Wouldn't that have been quicker? Not to mention it would've saved you a cramped thumb, too."

It took a while before the dark-haired man answered him. "I've told you before; I respect people's privacy. 'Specially yours, Sir I-Give-No-Fucks-About-Life."

"Harsh." Ventus had a feeling that he wasn't being truthful, but he wasn't in the mood to get into another argument about it—so he let it drop. "But fine; whatever you say."

Vanitas wouldn't make eye contact, and Ventus sighed. In spite of everything that had happened between the two of them over the course of the past four months, their relationship was still tenuous at best. They'd lived under the same roof since the day they'd met, but to this day, Ventus still wasn't able to get used to Vanitas's…strange quirks. He constantly carried around a calendar and watch, was such a horrible cook that his food could probably wipe out zombies by the thousands, had to be tricked into washing himself (this one was especially irritating since Vanitas wasn't what one would call stupid), and always had to sleep with bright lights on in whatever room he was in.

In short, it was a chore just to get Vanitas to take care himself—and getting him to eat was one challenge in particular to the point that it was rather surprising that he wasn't emaciated yet.

"So, why don't you go ahead and tell me why you called me out?" Ventus suggested, changing the subject. "You know that I don't have work today."

"Just because it's your off day doesn't mean that you're not allowed to have any visitors," Vanitas countered with a roll of the eyes. "There's somebody waiting to see you."

Ventus raised an eyebrow. "And this person couldn't think to call in first so I could avoid looking like I just rolled out of bed…_why?_"

"You're just going to talk with somebody. What does it matter what you look like while doing it?"

"It's called etiquette, Vanitas. Maybe you've heard of it?"

"Ven?"

The two of them stopped their bickering at the sound of the new voice. Ventus turned around to see Naminé standing behind him at the main entrance to his apartment with a bewildered expression.

Ventus wondered inwardly how long she'd been standing there. "Oh…hi there, Naminé. What brings you here?"

"Uh…the thing is, I have to talk to you about something," she said, recovering from her shock. "In private," she added, giving a quick glance Vanitas' way.

Vanitas raised an eyebrow. "Well, I get the feeling that I'm not wanted in this conversation." He rose from his spot on the couch and headed into the hall. "I'll just be in the guest room, then."

Once Vanitas had disappeared into the shadows of the hallway and Ventus heard the telltale sound of a door clicking shut, he turned his attention back to his guest. Neither of them could manage to get a word out at first.

"I feel so bad for him," Naminé finally spoke up, her words quiet as she stared after him. "I had no idea Sora even had a brother before four months ago…he must've had to go through a lot."

"Yeah, well," Ventus sighed, rumpling his own hair to try and get the knots and tangles out, "try not to say that around him."

Naminé looked surprised. "Why not?"

"He doesn't really appreciate sympathy," he explained. "I get where he's coming from, though. He's had it rough."

"That's so sad…"

"Yeah. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

If Naminé was disconcerted by Ventus' callous response, she didn't show it. "O-oh, right. About that—um, this might sound strange to you, but…I've been having these disturbing dreams lately, and it's gotten me worried."

Ventus raised an eyebrow. "Disturbing dreams, huh?" He normally would've dismissed that if it hadn't been for his own personal experience with the phenomenon. "Okay, then. What about it got you so worried that you had to come and speak to me privately about it?"

"Well, I—um, you see…y-you were in them," she answered reluctantly. "In—in all of them."

Ventus blinked in surprise. "Oh. That's…odd. Was I doing something in particular that worried you?"

Naminé bit her lip and refused to meet his eyes. It seemed to him that she did not want to answer his question right away. Ventus didn't exactly want to admit this to himself, but he was starting to feel uneasy by his old friend's strange behavior. "Hey, you alright? You look pale."

"…It wasn't what you were _doing_, exactly," she said at last, her words shaky. "It was…it was what happened to you."

"And…I'm assuming that it wasn't something good?" Pointless question, but he had to draw her out carefully. "It's fine; you can tell me. What happened?"

Naminé looked like she was sacrificing a lot with her next three words.

"You…you were killed," she said at last, her words hoarse.

Ventus did a double take at her response. "W-wait. I was _what?_"

"I don't ever see who does it," she continued, in that same hoarse tone. "I never see it happen. You're always just minding your own business one minute, but in the next, you were…" She broke off and covered her mouth in a bid to stifle her sobbing, unwilling to continue.

Ventus didn't force her this time. He knew exactly what she meant—and he didn't like it.

_You were dead._

"Okay, then…why did you feel the need to come and tell me this in person?" he asked, careful to keep his voice even. "So I died in a dream. You can see that I'm perfectly fine and one hundred percent not dead."

"I know that, Ven…but like I said, I've had this dream more than once," she confessed, wringing her hands. "I've gone to see psychiatrists and everything, but their advice hasn't helped at all. I've had this nightmare every night—ever since you were admitted to the hospital."

…That was an eerie coincidence. "Not even trained professionals could do anything about it?" he asked incredulously. "That's definitely not normal. If you really were going to psychiatrists, then it should've mitigated the frequency of these dreams somewhat, at the least."

Naminé shook her head. "That's why I decided to come to you and tell you about it. It wouldn't go away no matter what I did, and it's gotten to the point that I'm afraid of falling asleep now. I didn't have anything to lose, so…I thought maybe that telling you about these nightmares would make them stop." Her wide blue eyes glinted in fright. "And the craziest thing is…I really _felt_ like I should tell you, like—like as a warning, or something. So just…you know, be careful. Okay? I get the feeling that something bad is going to happen soon."

Ventus wasn't really sure what he should say to this. This was by far the strangest conversation he'd held with anyone for a while.

"Well…thanks for the warning, Naminé," he managed to say in reply. "I appreciate it, really."

Naminé turned away at the tone of his voice. "…You…don't believe me, do you?"

Ventus sighed and raised a hand to massage his right temple. "I'll be honest with you," he chuckled in fatigue. "I probably wouldn't believe you if I weren't me."

Naminé whirled around on the spot to face him in surprise. "Wait—so you actually—?"

"Well, unless you have some sort of ulterior motive in telling me that you've been slaughtering me within the confines of your unconscious mind, what reason would you have to lie to me about something like that?" He smiled at her reassuringly. "Don't worry too much. I'll be watching my back; I promise. You can relax."

Naminé couldn't seem to wipe the shock off of her face, but it eventually softened in relief. "You're a lifesaver, Ven," she said gratefully.

"Let's hope that's the case if your dreams happen to come true," Ventus teased lightly. "Think that you'll be able to sleep more soundly tonight?"

"I can't make any promises."

"C'mon. Be a little surer of yourself."

"Stop that; you're gonna make a liar out of me, Ven."

"That's my job, Naminé."

"Very funny."

"No, _not_ funny. It's called dry sarcasm. Y'know, being persuasive."

Naminé poked his (right, thankfully) shoulder playfully. "You're impossible."

"Thanks." Ventus lightly massaged his left shoulder to minimize the aching. "So, is the private part of this conversation over? Can Vanitas come back outside now?"

"Oh, um, yeah," she said quickly. "He can. You can go get him."

"Okay, good." Ventus turned and headed for the hallway. "The guy needs to learn how to send people off properly."

* * *

Vanitas nearly broke the pen in his grip when he heard the knocks on his door.

"Hey, Vanitas," he heard Ventus calling from the other side. "Naminé's about to leave now. Be a gentleman and give her a proper send-off."

Vanitas cursed under his breath. _You're not locked up anymore. Get with the program._

He pocketed his mini-calendar along with aforementioned pen and, doing his best not to betray any notion of annoyance, he rose from his seat and headed to the door. When he clicked it open, he saw Ventus waiting for him on the other side, his arms crossed and his expression miffed.

"Were you rehearsing a farewell speech or something?" Ventus asked, not even trying to hide his patronizing undertone. "What the heck were you doing in there?"

Vanitas was tempted to snap back with a clever retort of his own, but he caught himself at the last minute. "Doesn't matter," he said simply, pushing past the detective and striding down the hall without looking back. He could hear Ventus' subdued pursuit behind him, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to push him back and make a run for it. He hated being followed so closely; it was an ambush just _waiting_ to happen—and it really didn't help to alleviate his annoyingly frequent anxiety attacks.

When he reached the living room, he saw the young blonde woman standing in front of the front door, ready to leave. She blinked expectantly when she caught sight of him.

"Oh…hello," she greeted him awkwardly.

Vanitas just grunted in response. Women were a foreign concept to him.

Ventus stepped forward and acted as his buffer. "So, I take it that today is the first time that you guys properly met in person, right?"

"Y-yeah," she said. She then looked to Vanitas and smiled tentatively. "I hope we can get along."

Vanitas didn't really know what to say to this, especially since he had no vested interest in becoming acquainted with her, but he couldn't really express his disdain for the current situation with Ventus watching. The man had eyes like a hawk—and he was extraordinarily difficult to win an argument against.

Very aware of the detective's penetrating stare, he just said shortly, "…Yeah. Sure."

The blonde looked surprisingly happier at his words. She turned to Ventus and said, "Well, I should go now. Watch your back, okay?"

Vanitas blinked. _Watch his back?_ he wondered. _What did these two talk about…?_

"Yeah, gotcha," Ventus said without so much as an explanation. "Get some good sleep tonight, okay? Be careful on your way home."

After Ventus sent her off, Vanitas turned to face the detective with a raised eyebrow. "The hell did you guys talk about?" he asked sharply. "She sending hitmen after you or what?"

Ventus rolled his eyes. "Not everything is a matter of life or death, Vanitas."

"Well, this sure sounded like it. She was pale as a sheet when she came in. It was like she just saw someone die in front of her for the first time."

"If she didn't want you to hear what she had to say, then it's not your business," Ventus said flatly. "Don't go jumping to conclusions like that."

"Don't you even think about pulling that kind of bullshit on me!" Vanitas snatched Ventus' collar and yanked him closer in his fury. "I _know_ that look. I've seen it more than any living being was ever meant to see. My brother wore that expression for _five years_, Goddamn it! That was my _face _for fifteen fucking years of my life! _Her business_, my ass—if she went out of her way to come here and tell you about that, then it's way more than just personal business, and you damn well know it!" He roughly released his hold on Ventus' collar as he growled, "Tell it to me straight, detective. What the hell did that woman tell you?"

If Ventus was in any way shaken by this altercation, he was doing a really good job at hiding it. His expression remained carefully blank as he finally answered wearily, "Alright, fine. I'll tell you—as long as you promise not to make a scene."

Vanitas clamped his mouth shut and refused to answer. Rash promises like that were definitely going to screw him over later. Ventus raised an eyebrow expectantly, but Vanitas refused to give.

Ventus just sighed and crossed his arms. "When I say 'not to make a scene', I mean keep the volume of your reaction suited for the indoors," he clarified. "Is that a better condition?"

Supremely annoyed at the detective for finding such an obvious loophole and using it against him, Vanitas nodded stiffly. Sometimes he got the feeling that Ventus didn't take him seriously, but then again, that might've been the paranoia talking. He could never guess what this man was thinking right off the bat.

"Okay," Ventus sighed, gesturing to the couches. "Let's sit down before we start talking. I doubt you'll believe what I tell you, but better safe than sorry."

* * *

Once Ventus finished reiterating Naminé's tale, he could see that Vanitas had been ready to call bullshit on it from the very first sentence. It honestly didn't surprise him, since this wasn't the first time the two had broached the topic.

Vanitas finally managed to say after a long moment of silence, "What the hell is it with you people and _prophetic dreams_? Seriously, now I'm gonna freak out each time one of you wakes up from a nightmare."

Ventus shook his head and sighed. "Hey, we're not in charge of what makes the universe tick. Sometimes, strange things happen that people just can't explain rationally."

"From my experience, that doesn't sound like something a detective would say."

"Bite me."

Vanitas stared at him like he'd just swallowed a bug. "What?"

"…Never mind." Ventus scratched his neck. "Anyway, what you're saying is…you basically want me to lie to myself?"

"At least to the public. That way, they'll take you seriously—people'll believe any lie you feed them with the right context."

Ventus felt his eyes widen at his companion's answer. "How do you know something like that?"

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't believe the amount of stupid things you hear when people don't think you're capable of listening," Vanitas said simply. "C.L.O.U.D.'s boss man is pretty damn good at that. You've seen it first-hand—look at what he did to Sora."

Ventus immediately sobered up at the mention of his late friend. Of course…he hadn't thought of that very much, but Sora had to have been fed at least a _few_ lies if he'd been slaving under them for what amounted to an entire decade.

"Wait, so you've seen the leader of that organization?" he opted to ask instead.

"'Course not," Vanitas scoffed, reclining against the back of the two-seater and staring up at the beige ceiling. "I wasn't exactly allowed parole. Like I said, you hear interesting things when people don't think you're listening."

"…Right." Ventus fought the urge to smack himself as he went on, "So it's a man?"

"According to what I heard, anyway. His lackeys don't have any shortage of praises for him."

Ventus blinked at the sudden bitterness that had injected itself into the fugitive's words. It made too much sense, of course, but Ventus couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy every time that aspect of his roommate's life came up anyway.

"I—I see."

"Anyway." Ventus flinched back when Vanitas turned on his seat and jabbed him in the ribs with the blunt end of the pen he'd been holding. "If what that woman told you is true, then you should stay indoors today. The best place an assassin can take a chunk out of you is out in the open. Don't give them that chance."

Ventus pushed Vanitas' hand away and lightly massaged the spot he'd jabbed him, pleasantly miffed. "So…you believe me anyway?"

"I didn't say that."

"Whatever makes you happy."

"Look; this isn't funny, detective." Vanitas grabbed Ventus' left arm without warning, making him wince as a sharp pain shot up his arm at the latter's contact. "You're in no shape to defend yourself in the event of an attack, and it could happen at literally _any_ time. If you value your hide, you're staying indoors. You hear me?"

Ventus instinctively yanked his arm out of Vanitas' grip while glaring daggers at him. "That was uncalled for, Vanitas."

"And so was your attitude," Vanitas countered flatly, swiftly rising from his seat. "Listen, C.L.O.U.D. doesn't fuck around, and it's about time that you come to terms with it—and I suggest that you start taking things a bit more seriously if you don't want to get your brains blown out. Try to at least consider what you're going up against here."

Ventus himself shot to his feet, but he couldn't get a word out before Vanitas turned his back on him and strode into the hallway without looking back.

"If you don't take my advice," Vanitas said, his words foreboding, "I swear to God; I'll snap your neck myself. Don't make me start thinking that I made a mistake coming to you for help."

* * *

_Yeah…it's short. Get used to it, because I won't be able to muster up anything longer for this story. ^^;_

_So, how was it? I've been away from this series for far too long, so I might be a tad rusty in terms of character portrayal and such. If you have any advice, I'd be happy to hear it._

_Well, that's that. See you on the other side, whenever that may be, and thanks for reading!_


	2. First Hand

_Second chapter…whoo, something is already about to happen! Yeah, this is one reason I'm gonna be super slow with this story. Heh…_

_Anyway….hope you like._

**Ch. 2: First Hand**

Ventus probably owed his life to his car blowing up. Still, gratitude could roll over in a ditch and die.

Vanitas didn't seem to understand what the huge deal was with his attitude towards his exploded mode of transportation. According to him, no car meant less chance of getting his head blown up. In other words, he saw it as a good thing.

"Be grateful that the car didn't decide to blow up while you were sitting in it," he'd said in reply.

Well…yes, that was true, but it had been a close thing. Ventus had hardly set foot into the massive car lot when the entire structure shook with the force of a huge detonation, and he'd immediately (and idiotically, he realized in retrospect) run to find the source—only to find his car up in flames and smoke, now nothing but a twisted scrap of burning metal and shards of broken glass. It appeared as if some lunatic had dropped a crate-load of active dynamites onto it.

Ventus had been rightly horrified at the sight of his smoking and ruined vehicle, but that horror quickly turned into sheer frustration and annoyance once he processed all the consequences of this one moment. Jesus Christ; what were the chances that _his_ car had gone nuclear out of all others in this gigantic lot? And he'd already been running late for work, which was only adding insult to injury by that point. Adding to that the inevitably high towing fees and repair/replacing costs for his already-expensive car because he had no proof that someone else was guilty of the vandalism (though it was a question in itself as to what sort of lunatic would blow up his own car), and this day was already shaping up to be a particularly dreadful one.

While he watched as his smoking wreck of a car was being towed away for the scrapyard, he phoned Officer Zack Fair to ask for a ride. Predictably, he had been just as flabbergasted as Ventus himself had been at the situation.

"Wh-whoa whoa; wait a minute—your car _exploded?!_" his fellow officer exclaimed on the other end. "I know that it's been ridiculously warm recently, but geez! Sorry to hear that, Reed."

"Yeah, could you feel sorry for me later?" Ventus sighed. "Just come and pick me up. If you can't do that, then just call me in sick."

"What; you're not taking the subway?"

"Damn those underground freight trains," Ventus grumbled. "I feel like cargo in those things—it's claustrophobic as all hell."

"I don't think that counts as a legitimate excuse for our boss to miss work today. Especially since he had all of yesterday off."

"Look, I didn't exactly plan on my car going nuclear on me!" He exhaled irritably. "So…I take it from your answer that you can't take me."

"Unfortunately so. I'm already at work." Ventus could hear his co-worker click his tongue on the other end. "It's not easy being your second-in-command; I tell ya."

Ventus felt a tic going in his forehead. "Yeah, I get the hint. Then I'll just have you take me back home, all right?"

"Crystal-clear, sir," Zack intoned spiritedly on the other end. "See you in twenty, Agent Reed!"

Ventus was met with the dial tone so quickly that it was clear Zack had done that on purpose. He just sighed and resolved to clock him in the head once he got to his workplace as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

No sooner had he done so and stepped out of the lot to head to the nearest subway station that he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen—Vanitas had sent him a message.

_Don't forget to watch your back_, it read. _That explosion wasn't an accident._

Ventus deleted the message, his impatience with his roommate mounting by the moment. Typical of Vanitas; he just _had_ to blow a situation way out of proportion with every incident. _Relax_ apparently wasn't a word in that man's vocabulary. Ventus found this aspect of him to be particularly trying to deal with.

As such, Vanitas wouldn't get off his back if he didn't give him some sort of compliant response, so he typed out a quick message.

_Right. Remind me the next time my car blows up and jeopardizes my means of transportation. _Send.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and continued walking. If he was going to die today, it might as well happen in a spectacular fashion at a place where people would see it.

* * *

Vanitas had felt the overwhelming urge to hurl his phone against the wall after reading Ventus' message. Seriously? That man had the audacity to address this matter with _sarcasm?_ He'd been in utter disbelief.

Though it was hard, he'd managed to hold himself at the last minute—this phone would be too expensive to replace if he damaged it (Lord knew how many times that had happened before). Even though it would come out of Ventus' paycheck, Vanitas didn't want to feel any more indebted to the man than he already was.

Even after the three hours that had passed since he'd received that message, he really couldn't think of a proper rebuttal that would be sufficient enough to not blow up in his face eventually, so he decided to just give up. He'd literally been sitting on the living room couch trying and failing to come up with a witty response, but with no luck.

Vanitas tossed his phone onto the coffee table in front of him and switched on the television, which was always set to the main news channel. Vanitas wasn't the best at handling technology, and he knew this, but he at least knew how to turn on a TV, which was good because this was the only way he could really find out about anything that went on in the world. He couldn't change channels without screwing something up, but that didn't really matter since the news was the only thing that interested him. Honestly, the whole idea of an LCD monitor with cable seemed extremely superfluous—who the hell watched all 400 channels on cable?

"—at least a dozen commuters injured," the anchor was saying when the screen turned on. "There are currently no suspects. Fortunately, there were no casualties reported, but thanks to the spontaneous explosion, this subway station will be down for maintenance and repairs until—"

Vanitas tuned out the rest of the anchor's words as clips of the devastation caught on security camera flashed onscreen—people were screaming and running while the station workers attempted to restore order, nurses moved injured commuters (with blipped-out faces) on stretchers, and replays of that one footage that had caught the explosion occurring kept flashing onscreen as if the news team was afraid that not enough people would see it.

Vanitas could feel the blood draining from his face as the clips kept playing over and over without rest.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself heavily, staring out the window in the direction of the station that Ventus was headed to. "So they're already making moves like that…you better not be where I think you are, detective…!"

* * *

_Jesus_, Ventus thought, _does the whole world want to kill me?_

It was just his luck that this bomb happened to be at the station that he was at. This time, he only escaped with minor burns and scorch marks on his clothes, multiple scratches from the debris, and a seriously pissed-off mood.

At least he didn't need to walk the rest of the way to work. As soon as Ventus exited the chaotic subway station, he saw several police cruisers pull up and drop off (at Ventus' count) around fourteen officers that immediately scrambled to evacuate the remaining commuters and tape off the station. Zack happened to be among them, and he was the first to notice him.

"Reed!" he called, speeding toward Ventus so quickly that he nearly knocked him over upon reaching him. "Thank God you're okay—we thought you were dead!"

"I'm actually kind of surprised that I'm not," Ventus said, still brushing dust out of his hair. "And you sure took your sweet time getting here—the ambulance got here ages ago."

"We only got the news right before we left!" Zack shook his head. "…Anyway. What the hell's happening here? First your car explodes, and now the station that you just so happened to arrive in had hidden bombs that went off the moment you got off the train. Is there some crazy demolitionist stalking you that you didn't tell me about? This seems like too much to be just a coincidence."

"It probably isn't." Ventus rubbed his injured shoulder —the explosion had aggravated the wound, and it was being mercilessly distracting. "I have a feeling I know who's behind this."

Zack blinked once before exclaiming, "Wait a minute, you're telling me that—?!"

Ventus immediately clamped a hand over the officer's mouth. "Go ahead and announce it for the entire world to hear, why don't you?" He glanced around furtively among the clamoring crowd before shooting Zack a look. "Listen carefully. I have every reason to believe that someone working for them is out for my head, taking into account the events that occurred four months ago. To them, I'm probably nothing but a threat that needs to be eliminated—I don't know why they'd want that, to be frank, but things are going to get a whole lot more dangerous around here if I stick around; that's for damn sure."

Zack backed up, waving his hands in disbelief. "Whoa, whoa; wait a second. If you're saying what I think you're saying, then I'm not so sure I like what you're implying, chief."

"Well, that's too bad, because that just so happens to be how it is." Ventus glowered pointedly at his right-hand officer. "Can I trust you, Zack?"

Zack clenched his jaw, not answering for a moment, but eventually he sighed and looked at Ventus meaningfully. "You owe me for this, Reed."

"Oh, right. That reminds me." Ventus raised a hand and knocked Zack in the temple. The officer yelped in pain and backed off, cradling the spot where Ventus had struck him.

"What was that for?!" Zack protested.

"Condescension toward your superiors is not permitted."

Zack stared at him in bewilderment before realization crossed his features. "It's because of the phone call, isn't it?" he guessed flatly.

Ventus couldn't help but smirk. "You catch on quick."

"That was still uncalled for, y'know. And you even used your right hand."

"Well, of course I did. I'm not left-handed, Zack."

Zack looked peeved. "You know what I mean!"

"What; did you _want_ me to tear a ligament or something?"

"…I swear; I can't ever win with you."

"I'm going to take that remark as a compliment."

"Please do. My livelihood depends on it."

"Right. Anyway…" Ventus grinned. "I appreciate it, Zack. I'll be counting on you."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Zack crossed his arms. "So, does that mean you're not coming down to the station with me?"

Ventus scoffed. "After all the nagging you dished out at me for trying to skip work today? Don't think so."

"Wait, what?"

Ventus sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. Just get me out of here before the paparazzi gets here."

"…Oh. Roger that." The two headed for the first cruiser in line as Zack turned to Ventus and raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, it wouldn't exactly kill you to take some credit for what you do every once in a while."

"Easy for a nobody to say."

"…Reed, do you _try_ to piss people off when you talk to them?"

"It's a great questioning tactic. Get them upset enough, and they'll forget to watch what they say."

They reached the cruiser and Zack moved to the driver's side while Ventus took the passenger side. Zack made a face as he slid into the driver's seat.

"You think you're freakin' funny, don't you?" he noted dryly.

"Yeah, hilarious. Now get us out of here."

* * *

"Ven! Ven, are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Naminé. Quit freaking out."

"But I saw you—"

"I know; I know. Just relax, okay? I'm still alive."

Unfortunately, Zack hadn't been quick enough to get him away from the scene in time—the news crew had somehow managed to capture his visage on camera and continuously pestered him with questions as he and his cohort struggled to drive through a crowd without running anyone over. It was just rotten luck that Naminé happened to be watching at the time—so she'd called in (Ventus was manning the phone for that moment) to check up on him, freaking out over his welfare.

"Are you sure?" Naminé insisted. "Are you absolutely sure that you're okay?"

"Yes, Naminé. I am absolutely, positively, one hundred percent certain that I am whole and mostly undamaged." Ventus pinched the bridge of his nose and fought back a groan. "Look, Naminé, I appreciate your concern, but you're holding up our line. If you really need to see for yourself that I'm just fine, I'll have Zack drop me off at your place after work. Okay?"

"O-okay. I'm sorry. I'll see you later, then."

He finally hung up the phone and sighed heavily. _Well_, he thought, _Crap in a hat. I got caught on TV. Now they know that I was there for sure. Goddamn it._

His life felt like a game of cat-and-mouse. And Ventus was the mouse.

The phone rang again almost immediately, and it felt so deliberate that Ventus was tempted to just let it go to voicemail, but at the fourth ring, he groaned inwardly and decided to answer it—better safe than sorry, or some such.

The person on the other end was not someone he'd ever expected to receive a call from.

"Whoa, hey; didn't expect the head honcho himself to answer the call," the caller remarked. "I feel honored."

Ventus had to do a double take at the speaker's voice on the other end. "Wait a second—Riku, is that you? Why're you calling all of a sudden?"

"Well, why else would I be calling you? I've got a problem that I want you to take care of." Riku paused. "So, can you come down to my place later?"

"Later?" Ventus' mind went back to the promise he'd made to Naminé earlier. "When exactly is 'later'? 'Cause I have another appointment right after work."

"Ah, of course. I guess it makes sense that someone like you'd be busy with things like that."

"Yeah, sorry for the inconvenience. But I'm available in the evening; is that workable?"

"Sure, whatever floats your boat. Just as long as it's as soon as possible."

Ventus frowned. "What's so urgent about it that I need to meet you as soon as possible?"

"…Well," Riku said after a click of the tongue, "can't really say too much on it at the moment, but it concerns Sora."

Ventus stiffened involuntarily at the sound of the name. He narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion. "What business could you possibly have with a dead man?" he asked in a low voice.

"You'll just have to wait and see later tonight," Riku replied simply. "Well, I'll see you in the evening, then! Give me a call once you're on your way."

Riku then hung up on him before Ventus could even voice a retort, leaving him listening to the dial tone for a few seconds before he remembered to set the receiver down.

_Things are starting to get weird now_, he thought in trepidation. _Why do I get the feeling that it's gonna get much worse…?_

He reclined in his chair and palmed his face with a weary sigh. He had to remember to call Vanitas and let him know that he'd be coming home late today, if only to stave off the fugitive's perpetual paranoia for even a moment. This evening would be stressful enough as it was without it.

* * *

"What? You're coming in late tonight?"

"Yeah, a couple clients requested to see me in person. I'm sure you can survive the rest of the night without me."

Vanitas bit his lip. He wasn't so sure. He'd never admit this out loud, of course, but he was, in truth, genuinely nervous about the prospect of going this night alone.

"The rest of the night? Does meeting with two people normally take that long?"

"Vanitas, they're not exactly next-door neighbors. It's going to take time."

Vanitas exhaled sharply. "…Anyway, how late do you think you'll be?"

"Huh…" Vanitas heard Ventus click his tongue on the other end. "Can't say, really. I'll call you, so keep your phone on your person, okay?"

Vanitas felt his face grow so hot that he was immensely glad Ventus couldn't see him over the phone. "Fine."

"Great. Oh, and you know where the food is, so seriously—eat more than a cupful of cereal this time. I'm not buying food for two just for half of it to go to waste in my pantry. Got that?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just go and take care of business, detective."

Vanitas hung up before Ventus could have a chance to snark on the other end, trying his hardest to undo the knot tightening in his chest. He had never gone this long without company since finding and locating the detective. As much as he wanted to, he really couldn't deny the anxiety that he felt.

Without warning, Vanitas collapsed onto the nearest couch with a hand grasping his chest. His limbs had suddenly gone shaky, and he felt cold chills throughout his body.

Fuck. He was having another anxiety attack.

_No, no; not now! _he thought angrily through the haze in his brain and the ringing in his ears. _Damn it!_

Vanitas tried to control his breathing and calm himself down, but he was met with minimal success. Yet again, he was forced to tough it out without outside help.

—_Don't—trust—him—_

Vanitas' breath caught, and immediately his anxiety attacked passed as if it had never existed in the wake of the interruption, or…no, wait…maybe it _was_ the interruption?

Whatever the case, the whole experience left him utterly bewildered.

_What was that? _he wondered warily, scanning the area in the case of an intruder, but finding none. _I could've sworn that I heard…_

He shook his head once to clear it. No. That wasn't possible. It had probably just been a hallucination. It wasn't the first time he'd heard voices in the midst of a panic attack, after all.

He sighed as his muscles slowly relaxed one by one, but he didn't move from his spot on the couch. He just rested his forearm over his eyes and took long deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

It wasn't his first time…but why did those words fill him with so much foreboding? Did that voice come from somewhere in his subconscious? The other times he'd heard voices, they'd usually been either gibberish, random nonsense, or both. Not once had they ever been comprehensible in his mind, let alone make any sense.

…Not that he could make sense of what he'd heard just now, but…it had been extremely clear, if somewhat disjointed.

_Don't trust him._

He lifted his arm away from his face, deep in thought. If it _was_ a message from his subconscious, then what was it supposed to mean? Who was the 'him' that the voice had been referring to that couldn't be trusted? Could it be someone he knew?

A sharp ache lancing through his temples told him that it would be a good idea to set the matter aside until later—at least until Ventus returned from meeting with his clients—because the round of intense contemplating that that phenomenon had brought on was not being kind to his brain. If anyone would believe something this outlandish, it would be him. He scoffed lightly at the irony.

"'Don't trust him', huh…" he muttered aloud to himself. "Wonder where that came from…"

* * *

Thankfully, Ventus' visit to Naminé's place only took upwards to about half an hour (as much as a worrywart she could be sometimes, she knew when she should back off and give people breathing room), so he managed to make it to Riku's place before it hit seven on the dial, which was good—he would be able to return home earlier than he'd previously expected.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Riku greeted him amiably at the front door. He was dressed casually, in a white tee and gray sweats with his ever-present left-arm wrist warmer. Even his hair appeared to be scragglier than usual.

"Don't know if I could say the same with much confidence, to be honest with you," Ventus answered him dryly, briefly scanning his host's disheveled appearance.

"Well, gee; I'm glad to see you, too, Detective Stuffy." Riku waved him in. "Anyway, just come inside. It's pretty chilly out tonight, and all the warm air is getting out."

Ventus accepted the invitation wordlessly and stepped into the dimly-lit building as Riku clicked the door shut behind them. He could make out hints of cigarette smoke in the air, and there were sounds coming from the living room—presumably a television or a radio, because no one could really afford to go without constant news nowadays.

"So, how's your shoulder holding up?" Riku asked him as he sidled up next to the detective. "Has it gotten any better?"

"Not really," Ventus grunted in response, carefully shrugging off his thick jacket—it was much warmer indoors. "If only it was that simple. Nerve damage isn't exactly easy to fix, unfortunately. This is probably going to last until the day I die, but I'll have to hang in there somehow."

Riku grinned. "Tough, aren't ya?"

"Shut up, Riku."

"Sorry, Chief."

"Don't push it." Ventus slung his jacket over the backrest of one of Riku's kitchen chairs (his dining room was pretty close to the front door) and turned to eye him critically. "So, what did you want to talk about that we needed to have a private conversation about it?"

Riku blinked at the prompt. "Oh, right. Almost forgot."

"Yeah, sure you did." Ventus sighed and ruffled his own hair. "Anyway, can we try and hurry things up? My roommate doesn't appreciate being left alone for too long. Anxiety issues, and all that."

"Don't worry; I'll make it snappy." Riku turned his back to Ventus and made his way to the living room as he said, "Before we start, though, let's sit down and make ourselves comfortable. You're probably going to need it."

Ventus raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he followed. "What're you talking about?"

"Well, here's the thing." Riku paused and turned back to look at him, his cyan eyes uncharacteristically stormy. Ventus instinctively braced himself for his next words, but somehow, it still wasn't enough.

"How would you react," Riku began, "if I told you that Sora might not actually be dead?"

* * *

_…_

_…_

_…Yeah, that just happened. That last line was not a typo. So where on earth could this shocking development lead?_

_…Have fun contemplating that for the next three months! :D *runs away*_


End file.
